


Go, Diego, Go!

by MysticMoonhigh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cute, Destiel - Freeform, First Meeting, Fluff, Hospital, Humor, Implied Relationship, M/M, No Smut, Sassy Castiel, Waiting, children's shows, implied future relationship, poor attempt at being funny yet again, what am I doing with my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 09:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2502917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticMoonhigh/pseuds/MysticMoonhigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the prompt "Caught yelling at Go, Diego, Go in the hospital waiting room and after an awkwardly long period of silence the other person joins in bc they’ve got nothing better to do with their waiting time au"</p><p>“Is this the right door?” Diego questioned.</p><p>“Your mom is the right door.” Dean spat, the words coming out much louder than he had intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go, Diego, Go!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so here is this thing. If you enjoyed this I'm literally always open to prompts and post my own fics/ficlets a lot on tumblr. My URL is mysticmoonhigh there, same as my username here.
> 
> Please enjoy and comment what you thought. 
> 
> Sorry if Balthazar is a big of a... control freak. *sly grin*
> 
> (on a side note, there will be a link to the prompt list I got it from at the end of this fic, because I want to give them proper credit).

The cold white of the waiting room was interrupted only by small splashes of yellow, an equally dull colour when there was practically nothing to do but stare at the walls.

 

Dean had asked for the remote at least seven times- the television was blaring “ _Go, Diego, Go!_ ” on full volume, and if he could just pick a damn channel to watch, at least he'd have something to do. Every time he would question someone about it, though, they would just shrug and inform him that they didn't know where it was. The television was too high to reach the buttons, and apparently it had been stuck on Nick Jr. twenty four hours a day for the past two months. 

 

Of course, people he could ask didn't come by very often. It was a Wednesday night at nine o'clock in the evening, which left the emergency room all but empty, aside from himself.

 

He had already flipped through a couple of magazines, bought a cup of shitty coffee from the vending machine, paced the halls for about fifteen minutes straight, and made a botched attempt at flirting with one of the more attractive nurses. It seemed as though nothing would ease his boredom. Hell, he was willing to do just about anything to entertain himself at this point.

 

He plopped down in one of the chairs, the blaring sound from Diego's adventure piercing through his temporary veil of calm. The only sound in the too-large room was that of the television, and other than that, it all seemed  _much_ too quiet. 

 

He shifted nervously and glanced around, finding the room to be empty. His eyes fixed on the TV and he sighed, giving into his urges.

 

“Now, we have to find the door that leads to the right pathway!” Diego's voice said. The map appeared next to the doors, the electronic screen lighting up. It was full colour and a pretty damn good model of a GPS, if you asked Dean.

 

“Of course the six year old has a better GPS than me.” He mumbled, out loud. A yellow arrow pointed towards the blue door, which was clearly not the path to take. Well, unless Diego was planning on being an alligator's lunch buffet. 

 

“Is _this_ the right door?” Diego questioned.

 

“Your _mom_ is the right door.” Dean spat, the words coming out much louder than he had intended. The noise helped to calm him as it echoed around the room, and he leaned back in the chair. Diego's mother was not, in fact, the correct door. It was the red one.

 

Diego was hopping across some rocks when a shadow appeared across the floor. Dean was too engrossed in the crappy TV to really notice, and he sensed nothing wrong.

 

A voice was cleared beside him, causing him to jump a foot in the air. His head whipped towards the noise and he was greeted by a pair of stunning blue eyes. Further inspection of the offendor produced sexy, scruffy black hair and hands tightly clasped around a novel.

 

“Are you yelling at the animated child?” The man asked, his head tilting curiously to the side. Dean felt his body freeze up.

 

“I, uh, didn't realize anyone else was here.” He finally choked out, feeling his face heat up. 

 

“I just got here ten minutes ago, you wouldn't have noticed me come in. My companion was quite insistent about having his problem attended to quickly and discreetly. I was, um, sitting in the corner. I suppose the plant nearby may have obstructed your view of me.” He informed Dean, flatly. Dean just sort of stared at him, uncertain of what to say.

 

“That's...” He started out, but then changed directions, “I don't usually yell at children's shows. I just... they can't find the remote,” Dean cleared his voice and sat up, straightening his posture, “I, uh, got bored.”

 

There was a long silence, in which Dean felt severely awkward. It seemed to last forever before the other's gravel voice cut through the quiet.

 

“Would you like some company?” He offered. Dean perked up at the idea. He wasn't quite able to get a read on the guy, but he couldn't be all that bad if he was this friendly. At least he wasn't calling Dean insane judging him for yelling at the television.

 

“Boy, would I.” Dean confirmed, over exaggeratedly relaxing in relief. The other man sat in the chair next to him, and Dean stuck out his hand. “I'm Dean, by the way.”

 

He looked warily at the hand offered for a few moments before tentatively putting his own there and shaking. The touch was warm and pleasant. “Castiel.”

 

There was another moment or awkward silence, though not quite as long or as awkward as the one before.

 

“So,” Dean said, drawing out the word.

 

“Why did you come here?” Castiel asked, lightening the mood. Dean thought through his story for a moment before he spoke.

 

“My brother. He broke his arm while trying to play basketball with the insanely intelligent Asian kid down the street. The doctor said that the surgeon needed to look at it to make sure it didn't need metal pins in the bone or anything,” (Dean highly doubted that the break was that bad, and he was frustrated that they weren't competent enough to be able to tell that for themselves), “but he's busy right now. I've been here alone for the past two hours.” Dean finished, feeling some of his agitation subside. “What about you?”

 

“I'm also here with my brother, but for an exponentially different reason.” Castiel said, sighing. That peaked Dean's curiosity.

 

“Care to share?” Dean asked casually, trying to disguise just how badly he wanted to know. Castiel hesitated for a moment before relenting. 

 

“He was having an orgy in the living room, again. One of the participants got a little overexcited and decided to put the television remote in a place where it certainly doesn't belong. To my knowledge, he's in a great deal of discomfort.” Castiel said. Dean was slowly processing that.

 

“So your brother was having an orgy, in the living room, on a _Wednesday_ night-”

 

“His third in the last week.” Castiel quipped.

 

“And now he has a remote shoved up his ass?”

 

Castiel's lip twitched upwards, and he nodded. Dean let out a long whistle.

 

“Hey, do you have the same brand of television they have in here?” Dean asked, gesturing towards it. Castiel glanced over, confusion causing his eyebrows to pull together. 

 

“I'm not sure. Why?” He asked, turning back to Dean. Dean put on the most serious face he had.

 

“Do you think if we got him to come in here and shift around a bit, he might change the channel?” He asked, sincerely. Castiel continued to look baffled for a few moments before his eyes sparked in realization, and his lip twitched upwards again.

 

“That was a joke.” He said, more of a statement than anything. Dean chuckled at the response. “I actually doubt Balthazar would enjoy that, though I can admire your creativity. 

 

“Why thank you.” Dean said. His attention was pulled back to the television as the characters moved across the screen, smiling as they completed tasks most likely physically impossible in the real world. The silence was now comfortable, rather than the strained blank in conversation it had seemed like before.

 

“So, what is the purpose of this adventure? Other than the possibility of teaching children miniscule amounts of Mexican language and culture.” Castiel asked. Dean leaned forward a bit, his posture returning to its casual slouch.

 

“I think he's trying to save a bobcat from falling out of a tree. Sort of like those shitty 'hang in there' posters.” Dean clarified. Castiel nodded.

 

A good couple of minutes passed like that, mostly in silence. Diego asked them to repeat a word in Spanish and, (much to Dean's delight and surprise,) he and Castiel both did so in unison.

 

Castiel seemed like he was a pretty cool dude. If asked, Dean would passionately deny that having anything to do with his looks, but sheepishly admit that he was sort of cute. 

 

“Help! Help!” A cartoon bobcat called out.

 

“I'm trying to climb up the tree, but it's _really hard_!” Diego exclaimed.

 

“That's what he said.” Castiel put in flatly. Dean busted out in laughter as Diego prompted children to help him by saying the word “up” in Spanish. 

 

“Dude, I wouldn't have expected that joke to come from you.” Dean admitted. Castiel seemed sort of.... well, not innocent, but... was oblivious the right word for it?

 

“I figured you would enjoy the reference. I only understand it myself because it's one of Balthazar's favourites.” He said. Dean raised an eyebrow.

 

“You figured I would enjoy one of Balthazar's favourites? Are you comparing me to Mr. “TV is a pain in my ass” back there?” Dean accused, playfully. 

 

“I believe that's what can be assumed from what I said, yes. Do you need me to speak slower?” Castiel offered. Dean was absolutely beaming.

 

“Sassy. I like it.” He complimented.

 

They continued to watch and make comments through the show, laughing and talking like they had been best friends for years. And hour seemed to fly by at the speed of minutes as they were enjoying each other's pleasant company. 

 

Balthazar and Sam walked out of their examinations at the same time, (or at least, who Dean assumed was Balthazar), the former wearing a sour expression. Dean smiled at him, and it was received with a cold glare. 

 

“Whoa, what crawled up your ass and died?” Dean questioned. Castiel gave him a quick elbow to the ribs and a stern, disproving expression, but Dean could tell that he was hiding a great deal of amusement. 

 

“It's time to go, Cassie.” Balthazar said, sourly. He refused to acknowledge Dean's comment. Dean felt his stomach sink when he realized that this could very well be the last of Castiel he would ever see. Unless...

 

“Wait! Can I get your number?” Dean blurted out. Castiel nodded his head and Dean quickly retrieved his phone from his pocket, entering in the numbers given under a short, 'Cas'. When he was finished with that he shot Castiel a text message, just to make sure that if something happened to Dean's contact, Castiel could initiate conversation. He heard a small ding as his text went through. 

 

“Well, it was pleasurable meeting you, Dean.” Castiel said, warmly. 

 

“Right. And hey, maybe next time we meet up we could watch Blue's Clues.” he jokes. A small smile was received again in response. Dean decided that he wanted to see as many of those as possible.

 

Castiel left with Balthazar, and he finally turned to Sam. He pointed to his arm, which had clearly ina regular cast.

 

“I guess you didn't end up needing surgery after all.” Dean commented, smugly. 

 

“No. I see you were getting cozy with the boy in the trench coat?” Sam asked, a little _too_ casually. Dean's eyes narrowed.

 

“Dude, I know what you're thinking. Stop right there.” 

 

Unfortunately, no amount of denying anything made Sam's shit-eating grin get any better.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Link to the prompt list: http://spookythomassangster.tumblr.com/post/98695577628/yes-but-theres-also-im-hella-sick-but-not-old


End file.
